Sacrifice for Loyalty
by Leia
Summary: [Complete] 'What kind of a friend am I, anyway? First I watch like a brain dead idiot while he dies, and then, less than a year later, start to forget him just because of some woman' Kuririn POV. Sometimes emotions are the toughest opponents of all ...


Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to DB/Z/GT.  I don't even own the "Fully Articulated" Piccolo action figure from IF labs yet…. Grr….  But someday. . . .  [thunder crashing, evil laughter, and dramatic music]

A/N:  Another depressing P.O.V. from me – and this one spawns from Kuririn's mind!  It's set after the Cell Games, less than nine months after (since Goten hasn't been born yet), and is set on the same premise as "Best Friends".   Kuririn's thoughts of himself, Goku, and #18 . . . but this one is not on such a happy note, I'll warn you that.  It's not exactly a "warm fuzzy" story – I think I can safely say that without giving anything away.  'Nuff preamble – on with the show!

Sacrifice for Loyalty 

_On the sloped roof of a small, pink house, a lone figure sat with his legs drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs.  His mouth was set in a thin line, and his wide, bright eyes glimmered with the telltale sheen of unshed tears.  Years of care lines creased the corners of his eyes and mouth, where a few months previously, none had existed.  The young man was staring out at the sky, pensively, searchingly, as though the heavens could answer whatever it was that he so desperately wanted to know . . ._

******

The stars sure are pretty . . . that's something I've noticed over the years.  I've always loved looking at them, the way the blackness of the night is counterpointed by those brilliant globes of fire . . . I had a depressing and abusive childhood, and even today, I can't sit in total darkness without thinking that my father is coming to beat me, or that the monks of Orinji are thinking up another horrid initiation.  It's the stars, and only the stars, that keep me from going crazy at night.  On the occasion when it's overcast, I still get nightmares.  About my childhood, about Furiza, about Cell . . . about everything.

Thirty years old, and I'm still scared of the dark.  Pathetic, isn't it?  I guess, though, that's not so surprising, when you think about who I am and what I've been through.  Same with all my friends.  I wonder if there's any one of us who could sit through a night in complete blackness without feeling even the smallest stirring of fear.  I don't think anyone could.  Not when a person has seen what we have.  Most of my friends have died at least once, and we've all seen companions — and some, family — perish at the hands of some evil tyrant or another.

It's a wonder any of us can smile at all.

I think I'm the only one who actually got nightmares, though.  I always felt kind of stupid, when I would wake up sweating and breathing heavily, scared out of my wits, almost crying.  I _did_ cry a few times, but by then I was so used to the dreams that I didn't even feel ashamed anymore.  It gets natural after a while.  And crying at night definitely beats bawling my eyes out when people are watching.

The first nightmares I had were about my father.  A few years later, I would dream of the older monks at Orinji.  But after Radditsu came to Earth and Goku was killed, everything changed.  I would see Goku's bloody corpse, lying on the grass, his hair waving in the wind (where it wasn't clumped with blood, of course), him smiling faintly at all of us and telling us not to worry.  I dreamed of that every night — that, or horrific fantasies of what would happen if we didn't defeat the Saiyajin in a year's time.

And Yamucha wondered why I was so tense and uptight about training.  Eesh.

After that, on the trip to Namekusei, my dreams changed.  You'd think I would dream about Yamucha's death, since he's one of my closest friends, but . . . no.  My sleep was plagued with visions of Piccolo, for heaven's sake!  The guy tried to kill us and everything, and he kidnapped Gohan, but . . . watching him in that battle . . . he had changed.  It's like he was completely turned around by Gohan, and I couldn't help but be traumatized when I watched him sacrifice himself.

His scream, though, is what I heard whenever I tried to sleep.  Any time I closed my eyes, I would hear that yell . . . I didn't think anyone as powerful as Piccolo would be capable of a sound so horrific, so utterly heart-wrenching, but . . . he proved me wrong.  I can't even imagine how much pain he was in, when that blast tore through him.  I watched it all; I saw the energy rip through his clothes, tearing his skin from his bones in places, causing violet blood to spurt from gashes and abrasions all over his body . . . I can't begin to fathom what it must have _felt_ like

It's not a nice image.  I was kind of edgy on the whole trip to Namekusei, and Bulma never tired of pointing that out.  But I was too weary and bogged down to notice her.

  


I was all right when we were on Namekusei, just because I was so busy with fighting and trying to stay alive that I didn't have time to sleep.  The lack of an actual night cycle also helped.  Despite the exhaustion that comes from sleep deprivation, I didn't really mind it — insomnia is better than nightmares, I'll tell you that.

But Furiza ruined that, when he stabbed me in the chest.  Strangely enough, even though I didn't die then, that attack haunted me even more than my death.  Even now, I can feel Furiza's horn jabbing through my chest, cracking through my breastbone, puncturing one of my lungs . . . I remember the feeling that time was stopped, and everything being painfully clear . . . I remember the blood gushing out of the hole, and the air that wouldn't slide into my lungs no matter how many times I tried to breathe in.  I remember being flung into the lake, and the horror that overtook me when I felt water flooding my damaged lungs, with nothing I could do to keep it out.  I remember feeling like I was going to drown, but that it wasn't happening nearly fast enough.

I don't think I need explain what I dreamed about during the three months that I was dead, do I? And the year and a half that Goku was away, training on Yardrat, those nights were the worst.  There was no telling which nightmare I'd have . . . any one of the above, or even a combination of all of them.  That period of time was the worst I'd encountered in my entire life.

When Goku came back, though . . . all the nightmares disappeared.  Goku — there's something about him, whether it's that goofy grin of his, or the way his eyes sparkle, or that stupid habit of scratching the back of his head when he's confused — whatever it is, he always puts me at ease.  No matter how upset I was feeling, all Goku had to do was throw his arm over my shoulder and say something stupid, and immediately I'd laugh and all my fears would disappear.

Goku's like that.  He's everyone's saviour, whether they all know it or not.  He's saved my life lots of times, yeah, but that's not all that he's done for me.  I think Goku was the only factor that kept me from going clinically insane.  What with having died twice, and watching my best friends being blown up, or shot to pieces, or bleeding to death right in front of me . . . it's a lot for a guy to handle.

I only have Goku to thank, for keeping me sane.  I appreciate him so much — even when we were kids, fooling around at Master Rôshi's house, going on his training missions, he could always cheer me up.  I was a cynical, rude kid when I was little — I'd adopted that as a front, a defense mechanism, to keep me from showing too much vulnerability in front of people who would gladly use that to their own advantages.  

Meeting Goku was an instant enigma.  Having spent my life with people who were cruel and almost inhuman, who would tease and torment me, and beat me more often than not, seeing someone who was so genuinely happy, innocent, and kind . . . I think I almost died.  I tried making fun of him, I tried corrupting him, but it didn't work.  Goku's just not corruptible.  Heck knows I'm not the only one who's tried — and failed.

It didn't take very long before Goku became my best friend, and I didn't see the need to put up that sarcastic shield anymore.  It meant a lot to me, to take it down, because it was a kind of trust that I'd never given anyone, but Goku never abused it.  _Never_.  I think, through all his naivete, Goku knew exactly how much his friendship meant to me.  Not everyone can call the world's strongest fighter his best friend, especially when he's as weak as I am (compared to Goku, anyway), but Goku didn't care.  He didn't care that he could kill me without even touching me.  That didn't matter to him.

His friendship is the one thing that kept me going, through all the battles, all the deaths, all the fear and horror . . . it kept me alive.  I don't know what I'd do if I was ever called to repay him for it — I know I meant a lot to Goku, but . . . I can't have meant as much to him as he did to me, can I?

Well.  I'll never know now.  I _was_ given a chance to pay him back, not only for saving my life so many times, but for the most amazing friendship anyone could ever hope for.  I had the chance to truly thank him, to show him how much I really valued his friendship . . .

I failed.  I stood there staring like an idiot while he sacrificed himself . . . again.

  


I could have stopped him.  I could have done _something_.  I knew right away what he was going to do — as soon as Cell threatened to self-destruct to destroy the Earth, I knew what Goku had planned.  I could tell from the way he stopped yelling at Gohan, or gaping at Cell's preparations . . . his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth tightened, and his jaw was set in a way that I've only seen a few times.  All in all, it added up to one thing — Goku's death.

When he looked at us, I watched his expression change.  Gone was the regret and fear that I saw colour his features for a few seconds, replaced instead by his famous half-smile.  His eyes were sympathetic, like he knew what his death would do to us, but also that it had to be done.  A few seconds of silence, a heartfelt goodbye . . . and then, he was gone.

I could have stopped him, though.  It would have been so easy!  I could have jumped forward and caught hold of him — he wouldn't have dared to transport over to Cell if I was holding onto his arm.  I . . . I could have jumped around behind him and knocked him out, or tried to reason with him, or . . . 

Or not.  I don't think about the logic _against_ my reasoning — all I know is that I stood there and let him die.  I - I'm Goku's best friend!  Wouldn't that mean I'd be able to dissuade him from dying again, if I'd only tried?

If I'd tried . . . but I didn't.

Every night, for the past few months, I've replayed that day in my dreams, though each time it's different.  Sometimes, I see Goku sacrifice himself the same as in real life . . . others, I manage to reach out and stop him, only to have Cell self-destruct successfully and kill us all.  Other times, I try to help Goku, but either I can't move, or vines suddenly entangle themselves around my feet, or a wall of flame shoots up in front of me . . . that kind of thing.  No matter what the specifics are, they're still horrible.

That's why I sit up here at night, on the roof of Kame House, watching the stars.  I usually come here after the others have gone to bed, and don't go back inside until the sun rises.  I haven't slept much lately, but since I don't go anywhere except hang around at home, nobody notices . . . and it's amazing what a few cups of coffee each morning and at every meal can do.  My hands won't stop shaking, so I get more than a few cuts when I shave, but again, everyone must attribute it to sparring, since nobody's asked.

Nobody notices anything, really.  They've all gotten over the kind of glazed dullness that we all had after Goku told us he doesn't want to come back, but nobody's really gotten back to normal.  From what I've heard, Bulma's throwing herself into her programming, Vegeta never comes out of his Gravity Room . . . ChiChi's busy looking after herself now that she's pregnant, and Yamucha's helping her . . . Gohan and Piccolo are pretty much inseparable, and Master Rôshi just stays in his room and watches pornography videos.  Nobody really interacts with each other anymore; we all stay apart and live our own separate lives, trying to handle our grief.

I'm not quite sure why it didn't hit us until a week or so after Goku's death — the sadness, I mean.  We were all fine for a while, chatting together and trying to help each other out, but . . . after about a week, everybody just stopped talking to each other.  I guess before then, we were still comforted by the fact that Goku seemed so cheerful when he died.  I know that helped me a lot, knowing that he wasn't sad . . . at least, at first it did.

Now, I think that's one of the worst things Goku could have done to us, by telling us that he wasn't sad to die.  I realize he thought it was for the best, thinking it would help ease our sorrows or whatever, but it didn't.  Not after it really sank in that Goku was gone, anyway.

It's like . . . well, I can't speak for others, but for me . . . it's like, by saying that _he_ wasn't sad, Goku was - was robbing us of our right to grieve.  Like he'd be disappointed if we missed him, if we cried for him, if we all got quiet whenever someone mentioned his name or looked at ChiChi's swollen belly.  As though we were letting him down, or betraying him, or being disloyal, if we weren't ecstatic that he's dead.

It's not what he intended, I know — I've told myself that over and over, but it doesn't ease the confusion any.  And it sure as heck doesn't make me feel even the smallest bit better.

  


I really wish he was here; not just because I miss him, but because I value his advice on life.  On the surface, whatever Goku says may seem simple and too open-minded, but there's nothing simple about Goku — he may not be a genius, but most of what people call "stupidity" is a general unconcern for things that are trivial and unimportant.  What does it matter, if he isn't a programmer like Bulma, or a Prince like Vegeta?  He just doesn't care.  People are what matter to Goku.

A few days before his death, I asked him why we weren't training for the battle with Cell, and he told me that it wouldn't matter if we did.  Cell was stronger than he was, Goku told me, and even if he trained obsessively, nonstop, for the entire ten days it would make no difference in the final outcome.  I remember thinking about Bulma, who was at home with her baby, while Vegeta stubbornly refused to come out of the Gravity Room, and realizing how smart Goku was, even if no one else saw it.  Goku said that training wasn't important; he said that the moments we could share, as friends, as family, were far more critical than any training regime.  I'd never heard him speak this way.  I remember him saying not to mention that he couldn't beat Cell.  He didn't want to worry Gohan or ChiChi — especially ChiChi, since she was so concerned for both of them.

And then, Goku said the words I'll never, ever forget . . . we were sitting by the riverbank, Goku lying on his back looking at the leaves of the tree, dappled in the sun.  Really quietly, in a tone of voice he'd never used around me before, he said, "These are precious times, Kuririn.  Being together is _everything_.  That's all that matters to me right now."

That didn't seem like the cheerful, carefree Goku I knew . . . at least, at first, it didn't.  But after a couple of minutes, it made sense.  I don't know yet whether or not Goku could foresee his death, but I knew he didn't want to take that risk.  He didn't want to go into battle without having memories of his wife, of his son, his friends . . .  He'll never know how much I respect him for that.

That's why I want him here, now.  I told him, before he died, that it was my fault Cell reached perfection, because I couldn't destroy _jinzouningen_ #18.  I knew Bulma was extremely ticked off at me, and I expected Goku to be, as well, but . . . he just grinned, and said that he trusted me, and knew I must've had a good reason.

A good reason . . . yeah, right.  Whatever Goku must have thought about my motives, I'll bet anything that he did _not_ expect me to break the controller because of my feelings for the beautiful cyborg.  If he did, I don't think he'd be pleased with me.  Battle is something Goku takes seriously, and he won't let anyone undermine or take advantage of it.

But then, he's the same way about love.

I need him here!  I want to know what I should do about #18 . . . she lives here now, at Kame House, since I ran into her at the city and found out she had nowhere to stay.  She accepted my offer with the warning to leave her alone or she'd kill me, that she was only taking advantage of my hospitality since it was available from nowhere else.   I don't really care what her reasons are, though — if it means I could see her every day, I'm all for it.

She confuses me, though.  I can't tell if I love her or not; it's been so long since I had those types of feelings about anyone, but I know she means more to me than any other woman I've ever met.  I know she's absolutely gorgeous, and when I look at her, my breath is literally stolen away.  I know it's getting harder and harder to talk to her without wanting desperately to say something about my feelings.  I know, even though she insults me and ridicules me half the time I attempt to make conversation, she can still make me happy when I'm around.

But, on the other hand . . . I know that when she's around, I forget Goku.

Isn't that horrible?  He's been my friend for nearly twenty years, but as soon as a pretty girl enters my life, it's like, "poof!" and Goku's history.  How can I do that to him?  How can I abandon him, leave him alone and forget the great times we shared . . . forget the pain that exists with every beat of my heart, to know that I won't see him again until I die?

It makes no sense.  What kind of a friend am I, anyway?  First I watch like a brain dead idiot while he dies, and then, less than a year later, start to forget him just because of some woman?  I've known Goku fifteen _million_ times longer than I've known her, but it's #18 who's starting to occupy my thoughts more.  She's pushing Goku away from me!  Memories are all I have of him now, and she - she's taking over!

  


I almost want to hate her for it, but it's not her fault.  She has no idea of what she's doing to me, that's for certain.  Or, if she does, she's much better at pretending than I am.  Hating her would be selfish of me anyway, since #18 has gone through so much already, and I'm the only person who accepts her as she is, instead of instantly seeing her as a merciless killer (or a woman with a great body, in Master Rôshi's case).  It wouldn't be fair for me to suddenly hate her just because of what she's doing to me.

Even if she is replacing Goku.  

I wish he was here . . . he'd tell me what to do!  He'd tell me how to act around her, what to say, all those kinds of things.  Goku would be able to help me find the best way to win #18 over without scaring her off.  He may not be everybody's first choice when it comes to love advice, but he's frank and honest, and that's what I look for.  He'd tell me without trying to sugarcoat things, or laugh at me, or remind me that #18 is _jinzouningen_, or anything that the others would do.

Well, actually, I've known Goku so long that I can usually predict what he'd say about certain things, and this is one of them.  If we were alone, Goku would look at me with an expression like "Isn't it obvious?" Or, if ChiChi was with us, he would grin at her and put an arm around her shoulders before speaking.  In either case, he'd say,  "You like her, right?  Well, then, tell her!  You won't know unless you ask her!" then add, "Even if she doesn't respond right away, keep being nice to her.  Sooner or later she'll realize what a great guy you are." 

That's what Goku's like, though.  He simplifies things . . . nothing is complicated the way that Goku looks at life.  If he liked a girl (which doesn't apply, since he married ChiChi when they were in their early teens), he'd tell her, without being afraid of what she'd say in return.  Goku didn't let fears of the consequences dictate his actions.  If he were in my position, he'd go up to #18 and tell her how he felt, with a big grin on his face.

I wish I could be like that, but I'd have to change my personality completely, because that's the exact opposite of me.  I overanalyze things too much, dwelling so on what might happen after I do or say something that I usually get paralyzed and end up not doing anything at all.  Who knows how much different my life would be if I were able to adopt Goku's oblivious, "consequences don't matter" attitude.  I'd probably have a lot more girlfriends, that's for sure . . .

Out of curiosity, I wonder what Goku would have said about Maron?  But I'm not going to think of that.

Of course, the flip side of it is that I'm still unsure about entering into a relationship with #18.  (Pretending, for sake of argument, that I actually stood a chance with her in the first place.)  Even though I know, if it worked, that it would be wonderful . . . #18 is beautiful, not even Vegeta denied that, and I've known her long enough to see that she has great capacity for caring.  If she'd let me into her heart the same way that she did her twin brother . . .

Anyway.  Point is, no matter how great it would be, I don't think I could do it.  I'd be fine for the first few months — maybe even years — but eventually, it would catch up to me.  I might be able to ignore it for a while, either a little or a long time, but I couldn't run from it forever.

"It" refers to abandoning Goku . . . I've got a massive guilt complex, I know, and I think that if I allowed myself to be happy, I'd feel horrible once it caught up to me.  Even if I'm a little angry at Goku for leaving us with his confounded cheeriness, I can't help but fall victim to it.

He didn't intend for his "Don't be sad.  I'm not" statement to be interpreted this way, I'm sure, but it's too late for that.  I couldn't let myself forget him, just because I was leading a happy life . . . I can't set aside his memory like it's a book I can put back on the shelf after I'm through with it . . . I can't betray him like that . . .

If he heard me thinking this, I know what Goku would do.  He'd frown at me like I was crazy, or maybe even try to slap sense into me, but at any rate, he'd think I was absolutely insane.  He'd tell me not to be stupid, not to throw away a chance at happiness just because he's gone.

  


Yeah, I can hear him saying it, but that's not going to make much difference.  It still doesn't change the fact that, no matter what Goku would think of it, it's still betrayal.  Maybe I'm not pulling out a knife and stabbing him while he's sleeping or something, but it amounts to the same thing.  Everyone else is attempting to push him out of their lives (with the exception of his family) to lessen their own pain, and I don't want to do that.

I _can't_ do that.  I've been Goku's best friend since we were kids, and even though he's dead, that responsibility is still with me.  I - I've believed in him when others thought he would fail, that he'd never win.  I knew he'd come back when everybody else was sure he'd abandoned us forever.  I'm not saying I never felt betrayed when Goku stayed away for months or even years on end, but I think I kept up hope more than some of the others did. 

So why is all that conviction disappearing just because of my stupid _hormones_?  . . . and why, in some part of the back of my mind, do I not care?  Why do I _want_ these feelings for #18 instead of pain at Goku's death?

I find myself snarling, which is kind of scary, since I rarely do that.  I'm not getting anywhere.  The more I think, the more I'm running around in circles, which is something I do quite often.  I've got to get off this roof or I'll go crazy.

I guess the stars can't help me tonight.  They're just sitting there, blinking at me, almost like they're laughing.  As though they have the answers I'm looking for, but aren't going to tell me no matter how hard I beg.  That's the way life is, it seems.  It knows everything, but it sure as heck isn't going to give anybody any answers.

I jump down from the roof, landing in the grass in front of the house.  The grass comes up over my ankles — it's my job to mow the lawn, and I haven't been exactly faithful in my chores lately . . . I'll do that tomorrow.  I don't register opening the door and going inside, or walking upstairs, or anything . . . all I know is that suddenly, I'm in #18's room, leaning against the doorframe, watching her.

Well.  My room, actually, but I've let her sleep in it since she's been here.  It's not very polite to invite her to stay here, then make her sleep on the couch.  But who cares?  That's irrelevant right now!  Augh, my mind seems to be jumping everywhere!

I don't think even Goku (who says that no girl is pretty compared to ChiChi) could say that #18 isn't absolutely breathtaking when she's asleep.  Maybe I'm a weirdo for thinking this, but when #18's sleeping, I feel so comfortable around her.  Maybe it's because she usually looks so peaceful . . . and she looks twice as pretty as usual when she has her eyes closed.  Call me strange, but when she got spat out by Cell and she was covered in his spit, or whatever that was, it was the prettiest I'd ever seen her.  She looks . . . vulnerable . . . when she's asleep.

Maybe that appeals to me because it's the only time I'll ever be able to protect her.  She sure doesn't need my help when she's awake.

The starlight is coming in through the window, illuminating everything in a soft, silver glow.  #18, lying on her side, the blankets thrown off her slim body, looks like some kind of ethereal fairy when she's lit up like that.  I want to kiss her just then, and the urge is so powerful I actually move one foot forward before reality slams into me.  My fists clench at my sides, and I grit my teeth, angry for even _thinking_ of doing anything like that.  #18 would kill me.

I start to leave, but something makes me stop.  The look on #18's face . . . usually, when she's sleeping, she looks almost like a little girl, with no cares in the world.  Now, though . . . I can't see very well, but it looks like she's frowning.  Without thinking, I walk over to the bed and kneel down next to it, and sure enough, I was right.

#18's forehead is all scrunched up, and her mouth is puckered into a scowl.  She looks as though she's going to cry, and that's something I've never seen her do.  As I watch, a small whimper escapes her and she clutches at the blankets.  A slight glimmer appears at the corner of her eye — is that . . . could it be a tear?

Maybe she'd kill me if she found out, but I don't care.  I can't just sit here and watch her have nightmares, can I?  Of course not!  Hesitantly, I touch her forehead, making sure my contact is feather-light.  She's like a - a goddess, and I'm just a weak, undeserving human . . . I shouldn't even touch her, really . . . 

  


The noises stop as I gently caress her forehead, and gradually the frown-lines disappear.  Even after she calms down, I don't leave.  My hand seems to be moving of its own accord, fingers running lightly over her soft cheeks, tracing the curve of her jaw.

I shouldn't be doing this . . . I shouldn't!  But . . . 

Good heavens!  I have to be imagining this — there's no way that #18 could be . . . be . . . no, she is!  One corner of #18's mouth lifts slightly, and her face softens . . . she's actually smiling in her sleep!  I've never seen her smile — not like this, not without any malice or sarcasm or even plain humour.  She's just smiling because — I can't believe it — because of me!  Even if she doesn't realize it, it's my touch that's doing this . . .

My jaw drops as I stare at her face, wondering what she's thinking, what's making her smile so.  She couldn't be dreaming about — me — could she?

Of course she isn't.  I'm being stupid again.  I shake my head and pull my hand back, even though it pains me to do so.  I don't understand . . . I was never this way with Maron.  I . . . she didn't have control over me like this — not this strongly, anyway.  More than anything I just want to stay here, sitting beside the bed, knowing that #18 is here.  I don't need to touch her, I don't need her to care about me — just knowing that she's here, would be enough.  I could stay here forever, I know it.

Oi.  How sappy is _that_?  When I was a thirteen-year-old monk with my secret stash of pornography magazines, I would've died laughing to hear myself thinking this sort of mushy stuff.  But . . . like everything else . . . I don't care.

Suddenly, #18 makes that sound again — kind of like a little puppy, left out in the cold rain, all alone.  It's a horrible image, and it makes my heart jump.  Do I make those kind of noises when I have nightmares?  She starts thrashing, calling out something in her sleep — I lean forward, straining to hear, stretching my senses . . . it's a name, it's — 

"Cell!" she cries, and her tone is pitiful — a little girl's voice, not the capable woman I know.  "Cell — no!  Stay away from me!"

#18 keeps crying out, and before I know what's happening, the tears start flowing from beneath her eyelids like a dam broke inside her.  She's still asleep, still in the grips of that horrible dream . . . I can't wake her up, she'll hate me for watching her sleep . . . but I can't just _leave_ her like this!

I'm about to shake her shoulder when she says something that almost kills me from shock.  I've never heard _anyone_ say it to me, and to hear _her_ say it is like having all my dreams come true — 

"Kuririn!  Kuririn, keep him away — don't let Cell come near me — _Kuririn_!"

That settles it.  There's no way I'm going to leave her when she needs me.  Not when she's asking for me.

Even if she won't remember it in the morning.

Abandoning all caution, not caring what will happen if she wakes up, I sit on the edge of the bed, next to #18, and pull her up onto my lap.  It's hard, since she's struggling against the demon in her mind, but I'm not the world's strongest human for nothing, and I manage to hold her down so she doesn't hurt herself.

She's still yelling for me to help her, and if the situation were anything but what it is, I'd probably faint with happiness.  Maron never called for me like this . . .  I manage to get #18 curled up on my lap, and I hold her head against my chest with one hand, my other arm encircling her body, keeping her still.  She fights me for a few more seconds, but finally, she relaxes.

Her breathing slows down, the tears stop, and the anguish leaves her features.  She looks peaceful again — it does my tattered heart good to see her like that.  "I'm here," I whisper, stroking her hair like I would that of a child, rubbing her back with my other hand, resting my cheek on the top of her head.  "Cell can't hurt you — he's gone.  Forever."

  


#18 lets out a little sigh, and she leans into me.  I can tell she's still asleep, since her eyes are closed and she hasn't attempted to decapitate me or anything, but her head sinks back against my chest.  Slowly, her arms move until they encircle my waist, and she whispers, "Kuririn."

I don't move.  I don't _dare_ to.  I wouldn't care if my muscles cramped up until I couldn't move in the morning — I don't care if #18 is asleep.  This . . . this is wonderful.

Slowly, slowly, I shift until I'm lying down, still holding her protectively.  Her head is still on my chest, her arms around me, and I draw the blankets up over both of us.  The starlight, shining through the window, lights up both of us in a sort of surreal glow, highlighting her hair.  I can smell her hair from here — it's like roses and . . . and . . . something else.  Something dangerous, like the air before a thunderstorm, warning me of the deadliness beneath her beauty.  It's frightening.  But I love it.

If only time could stop right now . . . just leave me here, with #18, like this . . . I'd be happy forever . . .

My gaze drifts lazily around the room, finally stopping at the picture on my desk.  It's an old photograph, taken by Master Rôshi at the second Tenkaichi Budoukai that Goku and I entered together.  We're standing beside each other, grinning and yelling triumphantly about something.  We're holding hands, arms raised above our heads in some sort of victory signal.  We were so happy then — it's crazy, really.

My eyes snap to #18, who's sleeping next to me as naturally as if she's done it all her life.  I think back to my inner musings a few minutes ago, about time stopping . . .

Oh, _man_!  It's happened _again_!  I've been in here what, ten minutes?  Less?  And already I'd started to forget about Goku — thinking about life without him — without thinking about — 

_Oh, for heaven's sake!!!!!!_  I've gone over this fifty times today, and I'm _not getting anywhere_!!  I'm just hashing and rehashing the same old stuff, thinking up the same arguments, the same inner tortures . . . 

All right . . . that is _it_!  I'm finished with this.  I'm _sick_ and _tired_ of acting like a confused _teenager_, for crying out loud!  When did I start acting and thinking like such a moron?  It's _ridiculous_!

I fling off the covers and extricate myself from #18's sleepy embrace, throwing the blankets back on top of her.  I'm lucky she didn't wake up, but I don't really care right now.  If she wakes up and gets embarrassed about crying in front of me, that's her problem.  If she doesn't remember, fine.  It's not like she needs to know anyhow.

And if I play this right, she never will.

I've finally made a decision, about myself, #18, Goku . . . all of it.  It's time that I quit going over the same arguments every single day of my life — all it's doing is postponing the conclusion that I'd eventually reach no matter _how_ long it took me.

#18 is not worth it.  As soon as I think this, my heart constricts in protest, but I know it's true.  As a friend, fine, but not as anything else.  I can't risk letting her take Goku's place, I just can't.  It's not right.

I've spent the past few months beating myself up for not doing anything to help Goku.  After everything he gave, the times he's given his life, or risked it, or gone out on a limb to save all of us — after all that, I'm not letting a woman come between us.  Whether or not Goku's dead, I don't care.  No matter what he'd say, how much he'd try to convince me that I'm wrong — I know I'm right.  Goku never wanted any of us to make any sort of sacrifice, and we listened to him . . . and it got him killed.

No more of that.  I've said already that everyone else seems to be trying to forget Goku — well, not me.  If nobody else is willing to fight to make sure Goku isn't forgotten, then I will.  It's the least I can do for him, after what he's done for me.

  


I'll teach ChiChi's child about him.  I'll tell little Trunks all sorts of stories about him, even if Vegeta threatens to kill me for it.  I'll make sure that none of us ever forgets him, ever.  He'll be remembered, I promise.

It seems like a pathetic little contribution, next to saving the galaxy and all, but hey, everyone does what he or she is capable of, and since I couldn't save Goku's life in battle, the next best thing is to preserve his memory.

Of course, that's not quite all of it.  I've still got a heck of a lot of guilt riding on my shoulders, and maybe, just maybe, this little act of self-sacrifice will help to get rid of it.  I won't get married, I'll stay away from romantic relationships, I'll never raise a family — all those things I dreamed of doing, those things that I talked about with Goku when we would lie on our backs in a field, watching the clouds . . . I'll give them up, right here.  Right now.

I can't live a life with #18 and still remember Goku — my head gets so spun around when I think I'm in love that I can barely even _talk_, much less pay tribute to the memory of my best friend.  And if honouring Goku means giving up my lifelong idealisms, so be it.  I'd be crazy to say Goku isn't worth it.

My throat tightens, and I look back at #18.  She's so beautiful . . .  For a second, my resolve weakens — do I really want to do this?  Is this necessary?  As much as it hurts to think so, it is — necessary, I mean.  Goku had to leave ChiChi, and he loved her just as much as I love #18, and maybe more, I don't know.  I guess we're both in the same boat, then, aren't we?  Both of us have had to give up the women we love in order to preserve something.  In Goku's case, the safety of his planet.  In mine, the amazing life of the greatest man this universe has, or ever will, know.

Everyone makes sacrifices in life at one point or another, some greater than others.  Mine is one that no one will never know — I'll never be awarded or praised for it, and that makes it hard . . . but knowing that Goku's legacy will live on, that's enough.  And all the pain I feel on account of what I _might have had_ but won't — that's my due.  I let Goku die, and living a life of happiness just wouldn't feel right.

I can feel my eyes start to burn, and I leave #18's room quickly, before I change my mind completely.  It will be difficult, I know — I can tell already, because my heart feels like it's going to explode from hurt — but I'll handle it.  I _have_ to.  Goku's fought much harder battles than this, and won.

#18, forgive me.  And Goku, you too — I know you'd be mad at me for giving up my happiness, but it will be worth it in the end . . . you'll . . . you'll s-see . . .

Aw, rats . . . I swipe furiously at my eyes, which are spilling over with hot, acrid tears.  I hadn't _wanted_ to cry — Goku never cried when he made _his_ sacrifices . . .

I'm not Goku.  I know that, as much as it hurts.  I can never be on his level of courage and strength, but I'll do what I can, no matter what the cost is to me.

But even then, I can't help but wonder . . . Goku will never know what I'm doing.  No one will.  Is it really worth it?  All the pain, everything — will it do any good?  Will it make a difference, or will it just be sucked into oblivion by life, like everything else I try to do?

I frown, and my fists clench tightly.  I don't care whether or not anyone ever knows.  I don't care how much it hurts.  Of _course_ it will be worth it!  Goku's my best friend, and he's been loyal to me ever since we first met on the beach, outside this very house.  

Loyalty is everything.  That makes everything worthwhile.  

_Everything._

Goku, this is for you.  Even if you never know it, I promise I'll never, ever forget you.  You're my best friend, and I'm not letting anyone take your place.  When we meet again in the Other World, I'll be able to look you in the eye and tell you that I relived your memory every single day of my life.

  


And that's worth all the pain I'll ever feel.

******

_The small, compactly-built warrior turned and walked slowly down the stairs, shoulders slumped and back hunched over.  He lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes, pressing one hand to his forehead.  No one heard his thoughts, and no one saw his face, twisted with grief and determination, even as he forced himself to sleep.  No one ever would._

_In the Other World, a dark-haired, laughing-eyed warrior stopped his training for a second, cocking his head to one side as though he had heard something.  After a few seconds, he shrugged, laughed sheepishly at his own silliness, and resumed his sparring match with the empty air._

_Above the house, the stars continued to twinkle brightly, still holding back their ever-elusive answers.  And in a bedroom on the second floor, where a young woman slumbered peacefully, free of nightmares for the first time in years, a puddle of tears was slowly drying on the tiled floor.  _

_The stars, a sleeping girl, and a pool of tears . . . the only witnesses to a young man's heartbreaking mental struggle, and the decision that could shape his life forever — for better, or for worse._

_And only one of those three had the power to change that — but whether she would ever realize it was uncertain._

******

A/N: Poor Kuririn – he never gets any breaks, does he!  And yes, I know this may sound melodramatic, but think about it . . . of all the characters, Kuririn _is_ the most melodramatic.   (Think of everyone laughing before Furiza arrives on Earth, before Kuririn ruins the mood, saying, "This just might be our last chance to laugh, you guys . . .")  When Kuririn's confused, he often gets depressed, and it's that sort of black confusion that I was attempting to portray here.

As for the ending . . . I'm thinking of continuing this, since we all know that Kuririn doesn't keep his promise to Goku.  (Luckily!! Where would the world be without Marron-chan?!)  I'm considering writing a sequel in which #18 slaps some sense into our boy . . . well, it would be a _bit_ more complicated than that, obviously, but that's the basic idea.  It would revolve around the premise of Kuririn learning to accept Goku's death and sacrifice, and struggling to overcome his massive guilt complex (Am I the only one who thinks he has one of those?), and reconciling feelings for . . . well, I think we know who.   ^_^   

Well, let me know!


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